


Dumplings

by This-Is-Not-Overwatch-Fanfic (Hobbitfing)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Books, Cooking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Junkrat loves books, Junkrat thinks Mako was a prostitute, M/M, Mention of Roadhog's Dead Spouse and Child, No Smut, Pictures, Reading, Tea, but he wasn't, is there any other kind when it comes to Junkrat?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 00:54:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8349814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbitfing/pseuds/This-Is-Not-Overwatch-Fanfic
Summary: Junkrat finds a cookbook. Roadhog teaches him there's more to cooking than shoving food into a fire, and shares something of his past.





	

Junkrat took books whenever he found them—abandoned houses, libraries, offices. Sometimes stranger places. He'd been delighted the first time they'd slept in a church, crowing with delight at how many books there were…until he realized they were all the same, and really boring.

He read most of them, anything from poetry to erotica (which made him giggle and attempt to seduce Roadhog with what he learned), to physics. Most, he cast aside when finished, left wherever he was as he read the final sentence. Some he kept, furtively tucking them away in the pile of debris in his sidecar when he didn't think Roadhog was looking, because he had it in his head that Roadhog would object to keeping something so silly and pointless rather than using it as fuel for their occasional fires. Just dead weight, eating up gas they needed to stay ahead of the people hunting Junkrat.

Roadhog read, too, though more selectively than his companion. He would occasionally, when they came across a bookshelf in reasonable condition, push past Junkrat so he could have first pick, but he always gave the books to the other Junker once he'd finished with them.

Tonight, they were holed up in a more or less intact house, and they'd found a stash of candles. Now that he'd finally gotten Jamison to leave the tiny flames alone, Roadhog was reading, Junkrat squished firmly against his side, both affectionately and to keep him in place. Junkrat was also reading, until he made a face and threw down the book in disgust.

"This book is terrible! Here, gimme yours. I'll trade." He snatched at his bodyguard's book.

Hog growled, lifting his book out of Rat's range. "What's yours?"

Junkrat kicked it closer with his peg leg, trying to weasel up and underneath Roadhog's arms so he could see what the other Junker was reading. "Nah, it's great, you'll like it," he murmured, distracted by his book-stealing mission.

Roadhog grabbed his partner around the waist and tucked him under his arm. He picked up Rat's discarded book and was silent for a time, flipping through it. It was an old 'Joy of Cooking', with lots of folded corners where favourite recipes had been marked. "You don't like cookbooks?"

Now that Roadhog was interested in his discarded book, Junkrat was too. He cocked his head to the side in confusion. "What's a cookbook?" He laughed. "Why would you need a book that tells you how to cook? You just…stick stuff in the fire. Over it, if you're feeling fancy." He elbowed Roadhog in the side, as though they shared a secret joke.

"This is different. This is cooking with an oven. And all different things. Sweet things too, see?" He found a picture of a cake.

"Is it supposed to be pink?" In Junkrat's esteemed opinion, pink food was usually more trouble than it was worth. A full belly didn't do any good if you spent the next three days shitting yourself.

"Yeah, it's icing. It's just made of sugar and butter."

Junkrat made a face. "Had sugar before. Didn't like it." He peered at the list beside the cake. "That how you make it? Bleh. Flour's even worse than sugar."

Hog laughed, "When have you ever had flour?"

"I found some once! It was in with a bunch of food, so I thought it was for eating!" Junkrat said, defensively. "But it was horrible. Like…really soft sand." He squirmed closer to the book, scrutinizing the picture. "So it's not food, it's just there to look pretty? Like this?" He gave Roadhog's pig tattoo an affectionate pat.

"No, it is," Roadhog tried to come up with something Rat would understand. "It's like… the way you make a bomb. Flour isn't anything by itself, but if you put it with other things you can make all kinds of good things. Fuck, if we had flour I'd make dumplings."

Junkrat's eyes lit up, his mouth spreading in a massive grin as he nodded wildly. "Yeh, that makes sense!" He paused, thinking. "Like…how shrapnel by itself is just little bits of metal, with nothing to make it go boom. There's flour in there," he jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. "I was gonna burn it later, but if you want it, it's yours."

Roadhog stood, putting Jamie down squarely on his feet before letting go of him. "Wash your hands, we're making food." He headed towards the kitchen, looking through cupboards to find the flour Rat had spotted earlier, considering what to put in the dumplings.

"Just gonna get all sooty cooking anyway," Junkrat grumbled, trailing after Roadhog to see what he was up to.

"Wash." Roadhog poured a bit of water on his hands and scrubbed them, drying them on a clean-ish rag. He cleaned a portion of the counter with the same rag and poured the flour out onto the counter, adding some water to it and mixing it together with his massive hands.

Junkrat poked at the floury mess, retreating when Roadhog smacked his hand away. He licked his finger, then shrugged. "Better wet than dry, I guess. Like eating wet sand."

"Just wait," Hog told him, continuing to mix it until it was less of a sticky, crumbly mess and more of a doughy lump. He portioned it out into pieces and began to flatten them. "Get that rabbit we snared and cut the meat into little pieces for me," Hog gestured with his fingers how big he wanted them.

Mouth watering, Junkrat fetched the rabbit. He'd been thinking about it all day, but Roadhog'd insisted they wait to eat it. Almost like he'd known they find flour. But…no, he couldn't've, could he? Not even Roadhog could predict things that well. Probably.

The rabbit was already gutted but not yet skinned, and it wasn't long before Junkrat had stripped the meat from its bones. Cutting it into tiny pieces was fun for a while, but then he was just hungry, and they were so small, they'd fit in his mouth so nice, just one, Hoggie'd never notice…

"No, not cooked," Hog warned him, taking the rabbit chunks and then thinking back. He hadn't actually made something like this in years. More than a decade, maybe even two. It needed oil, if he remembered right, and there sure wasn't any in this kitchen. Luckily they kept stuff like that on hand for other things. "Get the oil."

Junkrat grinned, waggling his tattered eyebrows seductively. "If I'da known cooking put you in the mood, I'd've made you do it more often." Cooking—or at least heating whatever food they came across—usually fell to Junkrat, both because he liked playing with fire and because it was Roadhog's job to keep watch.

Hog chuckled, not correcting Junkrat. While Rat was digging through their things, he rummaged through the pantry for spices and things they usually didn't get to have. It was just more weight to carry for non essentials. He let his nose guide him, lifting his mask to smell them and pour them onto his big palm before rubbing them into the pieces of meat. It was all dried, but so much more flavour than they were used to. Rosemary, sage, powdered garlic, thyme, salt… that would do. Once Junkrat handed over the little bottle of oil, Roadhog poured a little on the rabbit chunks with the spices, wiped his hands on the rag, then started wrapping the dumplings up and sealing them.

"What're you doing?" Junkrat demanded, looking outraged. "That's important stuff, mate! You think you're just gonna slide in here with just spit and…" he spluttered, waving his hands.

"It'll be worth it," he promised.

"Better be," Junkrat grumbled, watching as Roadhog poured more of the precious stuff on food.

"Find a—" he realized that asking Rat to find a frying pan was like asking a dingo to write poetry. It just wouldn't be fair to ask. "Never mind." He dug under the broken oven, and finally came up with a very dusty cast iron pan. He cleaned it off with his palm, then the rag. "Start a fire for us, boss."

"That, I can do." The prospect of fire cheered Junkrat up, and he could soon be heard making mayhem throughout the house as he gathered bits and chunks of wood and other combustibles, whistling cheerily as he heaped them in the centre of the living room.

Once the fire was going, Hog put the pan over it and held it there, waiting for it to heat up. He added a little more oil, giving Rat a look to quiet his protest. Once the oil was hot, he added the dumplings and they sizzled loudly.

Junkrat's long, pointed nose twitched as the dumplings heated up and released their aroma. It didn't even smell like _food_ , it smelled like…he scratched his head, trying to remember what it was. Like…they'd found a little motel once, and the floor had been too rotten for Junkers to haul much away—or for Roadhog to enter. In one of the bathrooms, Junkrat had found a few little bottles and he'd squirted some of the goop onto his tongue. It tasted terrible, but it made bubbles when he spat it out, and that had been fun until Roadhog shouted at him to hurry up. He'd taken the bottles to play with later, but Roadhog had found them when one got squashed and splattered all inside a saddlebag, and Junkrat had braced himself for a scolding, but instead Roadhog had gotten…a funny look. He'd cleaned it up, carefully wrapping the intact bottle in some cloth and a plastic bag.

Soon they were browned and Roadhog couldn't wait for them to cool. He dumped them into a bowl he'd grabbed and stuffed a much-too-hot dumpling into his mouth with a groan.

That was more than enough of a cue for a hungry, impatient Junkrat, and he snatched one out of the bowl, laughing and hissing when it burnt his flesh hand. He transferred it to his metal hand, tossing it in the air a few times to cool it, before excitement overcame him and he too crammed it in his mouth. They were Roadhog-size dumplings, so his mouth was stuffed full and hot. He opened his mouth, panting, before biting it in half and taking half out of his mouth again. Puffing and blowing, he chewed the remaining half and swallowed, a dreamy smile crossing his lips. It didn't taste like the bubble-stuff. Well, maybe a little. But it tasted good. Better than good. Better than…he thought back to all the meals he could remember. Better than anything. He shoved the other half back in his mouth, torn between wanting to bolt down as much as he could, as fast as he could, and wanting to savour the… "'s callain?"

Roadhog laughed, managing to understand Junkrat even with his mouth full of dumpling. "They're called dumplings. Let's slow down a little." He was panting too, his mouth burning. The next one was better, much cooler, savoured more slowly. They were crisp on the outside and it had been so long since Hog had had spices.

***

Stomach pleasantly full—and then some—with all the dumplings gone, Junkrat rolled on the dusty floor in sheer bliss, arms wrapped around his middle and a broad grin on his face. "Ohhh, Hoggie. I hate to say it, but you were right. That was worth it. Oil's good for two things now." He frowned, holding up fingers as he did mental calculations. "Four. Seven. At least three."

"What are they all?"

"Sex, and dumplings, and greasy bike parts in a pinch, _in that order_. Maybe. You _know_ this!" He shot Roadhog a disappointed look.

"Just checking, maybe you've got a secret," Roadhog teased him.

"I've got _loads_ of 'em. You don't even know." Junkrat squirmed across the mouldy carpet so he could snuggle against Roadhog's side. He lay quietly for a minute, eyelids drifting shut, before he suddenly sat up as something occurred to him. "You didn't even use the book!"

Hog kissed him. "The book teaches you new recipes you've never tried before. I wanted to use an old one."

Pleased by the kiss, Junkrat thought for a bit, before slowly saying, "Well, probably better than anything in that old book, anyway."

Roadhog didn't bother to dissuade him. "That was one of the first things I learned to cook."

"Did you learn it from a book?"

He shook his head, kissing Rat again.

"Did you just make it up yourself?" Junkrat pressed, curious.

"Someone taught it to me."

" _Who_?" Junkrat laughed. "What, have I gotta wrestle it out of you? 'Cause I will."

"My mum."

"You had a mum? Wait, no, that's silly, everyone's got a mum, even if you don't remember, right?" Giggling, Junkrat clambered up so he was splayed across Roadhog's lap like a starfish, arms and legs spread wide. "'s just hard to picture you…smaller. Small enough to need a mum."

Roadhog nodded, understanding. He stood, heading for his bike.

"Aw, mate, have we gotta leave just now? I'm all sleepy, and we've got oil, and I want to hear about your mum!"

"Stay," he said. He was back in a minute, with a small tin, and he handed it to Rat.

" _Stay_ ," Junkrat scoffed, kicking at a loose bit of…something…on the floor. He hated staying, especially when he was specifically told to, but it wasn't long before he heard the clump-clump-clump of Roadhog's massive boots returning. He took the tin, opening it eagerly even though he was already full. To his disappointment, it wasn't full of something useful, like food, but little bits of paper. No, pictures. How dull. Unless…Junkrat blinked, looked again. A kid, running across a bright green carpet outdoors, laughing. A round kid, with a sticky-outy belly button and a familiar nose.

"It's you! It's baby Hoggie!" Junkrat cackled, accidentally sending the pictures flying and scrambling to gather them up again. "Am I right? Is it you?"

"That's me," he confirmed. The pictures were faded and yellowed, but Roadhog was glad he'd saved this piece of Before. He flicked through the photos and found a couple more of him when he was young, one of him in his mum's lap, both of them smiling for the picture.

"Is that your mum?" Junkrat pressed a greasy finger to the picture, tilting his head from side to side as if he could see her from a different angle. He laughed. "You look just like her."

"Careful of the grease," Hog warned, wiping the photo clean. "Wonder what your mum looks like."

"Like a rat, probably. Or maybe that was my dad." He snuggled onto Roadhog again, wiping his fingers on his shorts before flipping through the pictures. He ignored the ones that didn't have Roadhog in them, stopping when he got to a photograph of a grinning young man posing with a motorcycle. "Is that your first hog?" he asked, breathless and almost reverent, tapping the picture with his nail rather than the pad of his finger.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Worked my ass off to get all the parts for her," he said fondly, working his fingers into Rat's hair gently.

"Must've been pretty popular, she's a beaut."

Hog wasn't entirely sure what Rat meant by that, but let it slip. He flipped through a few more photos, slowly. It'd been awhile since he'd looked at them. Jamie was a good distraction, he kept him busy and rooted in the present. Mako might not exist anymore, but Roadhog had still been living pretty far in the past.

Pictures of Roadhog—of Mako—in the city, rather than the Outback. Alone, rather than with his parents. And then…the same person kept showing up in picture after picture together with Mako—riding on the back of his bike, grinning as they pressed their faces together so they'd both fit in the frame, on a small boat. Pictures of the new person by themselves, so Mako'd probably taken them. And then Mako in a brightly coloured skirt, the other person beside him in an equally colourful skirt. Mako was blushing, but grinning as though he'd just found an untouched stash of food. Or like…

"Who's this?" Junkrat asked, softly, hoping he didn't sound jealous, because he wasn't, Roadhog was right here, with him, not this stranger he'd never mentioned, and he'd just cooked dumplings for both of them and hopefully later they'd put the oil to even better use.

Roadhog pressed a kiss to Jamie's ear. He could hear the anxious tone to Rat's voice and wanted to assure him he was still here. But his words caught for a moment and he had to clear his throat before he could get them out. "That's Alex."

"Alex is—was—important to you?" Junkrat's breathing was fast; he could tell there was a lot of thought, of emotion, going on in Roadhog's head, but he wasn't sure what it was or how to react.

"Yeah, we were married." Roadhog busied himself organizing the photos, then pulled out another one and handed it to Rat. It was Alex and him with a small, chubby child between them. "Alex died just before everything went to hell."

"And you had a kid…" The thought flashed through Junkrat's mind, there and gone, that maybe it was for the best that Alex hadn't lived through…well. There weren't many people from Before left, even fewer who were the same as they used to be, and Roadhog wasn't one of them. "I'm…I'm sorry?" Junkrat wasn't great at comforting people, but especially Roadhog. Roadhog's pain made him feel small, and helpless, and he hated it.

Hog kissed him on the forehead. "It's done. Mako's dead too. You're stuck with Roadhog."

"I like Roadhog. I—oh!" Junkrat squirmed free. "There's tea, I saw some in the cupboard." Roadhog, for reasons Junkrat couldn't understand, _liked_ tea, found it comforting. "I'll…I'll heat some up for you. Right?"

"Alright." Roadhog gathered up his pictures, counting them just to be sure. Junkrat liked to stash things. He put them back in his little tin and closed it up tight.

"I think all of this is tea." Junkrat returned with an armful of boxes, the ones that looked relatively undisturbed by mice or other pests. They all showed pictures of fancy cups full of different coloured liquid, so he assumed they were all tea, though why anyone would need so much was completely beyond him. He poured some water into the pan they'd cooked the dumplings in, adding a little more fuel to the fire. "Whichever one you like," he said, grandly.

Hog picked one that looked good and let Jamie take care of the rest. "You alright?"

Junkrat huffed softly, picking out one of the little bags inside. He gave it a sniff, then made a face. "'course. I—" He smiled, sadly. "Thanks." He wished he could put it into words, that he knew how much showing the pictures meant to Roadhog, had cost him even, but they wouldn't come, so he concentrated on the panful of water, watching the first bubbles rise as it heated.

"C'mere," Roadhog opened his arms for his partner, waiting for Rat to come settle in his lap.

"Wait for your tea, otherwise I'll get too comfy. Won't be long. I'll be right back." Junkrat scurried back to the kitchen. Finding a mostly intact mug, he wiped it with the cloth Roadhog had been using and brought it back. Carefully pouring the boiling water into it, only extinguishing about half the fire, he added the tea bag and handed the mug over to Roadhog, pleased with himself. Task complete, he nestled against his bodyguard's side, pressing tight against him.

Hog drank his tea and let Rat relax against him. "Thanks."

Maybe there was something to this tea business, or at least it seemed to calm Roadhog down. Junkrat's breathing slowed, his heartbeat steadied. He laughed. "Just boiled you some water, but…you're welcome."

**Author's Note:**

> Again, even though this story isn't in the same timeline as our others, it shares the headcanon that Roadhog had a nonbinary spouse and they had a child together.
> 
> It's probably a good thing Junkrat didn't get to burn the flour, because he doesn't know about it exploding. He doesn't think this is a good thing.
> 
> The 'green carpet' is grass BTW :( Junkrat you make me sad
> 
> Also Junkrat thinks Mako was _literally_ working his ass off, if you catch my drift ;)
> 
> (It occurred to me, several days after writing this, that I used to eat plain flour and water shhhh. Not because I was starving or anything, don't worry)


End file.
